


(and in the end, we were only)human

by catsandanimenerd



Series: we're only human [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Dissociation, Emetophobia, Gen, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vomit, im crying ive tried to post this so many time but ao3 hates me, it's 2 am have mercy on my soul, just let me REST, these children are a MESS ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10134179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsandanimenerd/pseuds/catsandanimenerd
Summary: There’s something about the night, the crash after the battle, that reveals the ugliness about them.Or: The Paladins all have their demons





	1. (you know time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start)

**Author's Note:**

> Caution! Lance has an anxiety attack, and it crops up w/o much warning so please be careful! It's short, though, so you can skip it easily.

It’s night time, probably, _somewhere_ on Earth and his body is exhausted beyond belief but Lance can’t sleep, can’t focus, he’s-he’s too restless, thoughts and legs bouncing from one thing to the next and god he knows-he _knows_ he shouldn’t be looking at his phone right now but it’s the only thing tying him back to Earth and, really, it’s not the worst decision he’s ever made and-

 

 _When you want it the most_ __  
_There's no easy way out_ __  
_When you're ready to go_ __  
_And your heart's left in doubt_ __  
_Don't give up on your faith_ __  
_Love comes to those who believe it_ __  
And that's the way it is

 _  
-_ Celine Dion’s voice rings in his ears, the volume loud enough to seep into the walls, possibly heard from the outside. He tries to drown himself in the music, tries to _focus_ , damnit, on her voice and the background music but his blood is rushing through his veins without stop. His head feels heavy with sleep but Lance’s brain isn’t letting him rest long enough to drift off. He huffs and changes the song, fingers creaking with stiffness.

 

 _There’s a boy I know_  
_He’s the one I dream of_  
_Looks into his eyes_  
_Takes me to the clouds above_  
_Ooh I lose control_  
_Can’t seem to get enough_  
_When I wake from dreaming,_  
Tell me is it really love?

 

Lance rolls onto his side, knees tucked into his chin in a position that aches deep in his bones and the distraction isn’t _working_ . The shitty, half built beaver dam that’s holding everything back _snaps_ and he’s drowning, drowning. He’s _still_ thinking(did he ever really _stop?_ ), he’s still-still _moping_ and he feels pathetic, god, why can’t Lance ever feel _normal_ for once in his fucking life?

(Why is he the weak link in the team, why is he _always_ messing up, why is never fucking _good_ enough like Keith, like Shiro? Why, why, why, why-)

 

 _I've done alright up to now_ __  
_It's the light of day that shows me how_ __  
_And when the night falls, loneliness calls_ __  
_Oh, I wanna dance with somebody_ __  
_I wanna feel the heat with somebody_ __  
_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody_ __  
With somebody who loves me  


(He’s not good enough, fuck, why did the Blue Lion chose _him?_ He’s nothing, nothing-

 

**_N O T H I N G_ **

-and he’s so fucking annoying, always talking and saying dumb shit and god Pidge is always fucking _right_ when they complain about him. And Hunk is too _nice_ , far too nice for his own good, and he never says anything to Lance about it but Lance knows what he’s thinking. And Shiro is always scolding him, giving him disappointed looks, shooting him down before he can even get off the ground. He’s a shit shot, he can barely pay attention most of the time when he flies, and Lance knows that he’s not special like the others, he isn’t-isn’t _perfect_ like Keith.)

  
_Could you whisper in my ear_ __  
_The things you wanna feel_ __  
_I'd give you anythin'_ __  
_To feel it comin'_ __  
_Do you wake up on your own_ __  
_And wonder where you are?_ __  
_You live with all your faults_ __  
_I wanna wake up where you are_ __  
_I won't say anything at all_ __  
_So why don't you slide_ __  
Yeah, I'm gonna let it slide

 

(Jesus, _Keith_ is-Keith is everything to Lance, and he knows he’s not even on that dumb, perfect, beautiful boy’s radar. Keith is like the ocean air in the morning, heavy, humid, but refreshing and Lance would do _anything_ to get his attention. He craves Keith like he craves the beach, like he craves _real_ food and not the gelatinous green goop Coran cooks up. Lance wants Keith in _every_ way, under _every_ star, and it hurts-it _hurts_ to _know_ that Keith won’t ever look his way, won’t ever feel the same because Keith is _perfect_ and Lance is-is _not_.)

Lance can’t _breathe_ , his chest feels like lead, god, he can’t fucking _breathe_ and his face is oddly wet and his hand shakes uncontrollably as he shoots it out to grab at the bottle of medication above his head. He doesn’t think it’s going to help now-he can’t remember the last time he took his meds, actually, idly remembers that he’s not supposed to take it before operating heavy machinery-but it can’t hurt to try. His fingers close around the bottle and he jerks it open and there’s only one pill left and Lance’s heart rate _triples_.

He knew-he _knew_ he’d be forced to this ultimatum at some point but he can’t _breathe_ , can’t think now, and there’s an undeniable fear closing his throat and _fuck_ , Lance is going to die without anyone knowing, without _Keith_ knowing, and something collapses his lungs, collapses his stomach into nothing and now he’s cold, so _cold_ and-

There’s ancient **_I C E_ **  scraping against his mind, infinite space and **_M A G I C_ ** , and his Blue is forcing cold calmness onto him, forcing his body to shut down and he’s never been half as grateful to be the Blue Paladin than now. His heart slows, his blood sluggish in his veins, tingling from racing around. Lance shudders, whispers a quiet _thank you_ to his Blue, and Blue purrs at her Lance, wrapping his mind in **_I C E_ ** and helping his limbs pull him under the blanket. The grip on his phone tightens and he idly changes the song again, sick.

 

 _And I don't want the world to see me_ __  
_'_ _Cause I don't think that they'd understand_ __  
_When everything's meant to be broken_ __  
_I just want you to know who I am_ __  
_And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming_ __  
_Or the moment of truth in your lies_ __  
_When everything feels like the movies_ __  
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive

 

Lance hears the door to his room open, and Keith walks in like it’s perfectly normal to come over to Lance’s room in the middle of the not-night. His eyes-his weird, perfect steel eyes-have dark bags lined up beneath them and he honest to god looks like _shit_ but Lance can _guarantee_ he looks worse. He’s a little numb, and Keith doesn’t look like he wants to talk, so Blue helps Lance pull the blanket up, much like he used to do with his cat when she wanted to cuddle at two in the morning but she wasn’t really sure about what happened once she got under. Keith blinks, collapsing into the bed with a move so flawless that Lance would bristle at if he had the energy, if he hadn’t just got pulled out of a god damn anxiety attack by a magical mechanical lion.

  
_And your love is anemic and I can't believe_ __  
_That you couldn't see it coming from me_ __  
_And I still feel that rush in my veins_ __  
_It twists my head just a bit too thin_ __  
_All those people in those old photographs I've seen are dead_ __  
_And in the end_ __  
_I'd do it all again_ __  
_I think you're my best friend_ __  
_Don't you know that the kids aren't all, kids aren't alright_ __  
_I'll be yours_ __  
_When it rains it pours_ __  
_Stay thirsty like before_ __  
Don't you know that the kids aren't all, kids aren't alright

  
Keith shifts closer, and Lance curls up under his chin like a cat and hides his tear-stained cheeks, hides his aching limbs and ravenous stomach in Keith, and tries to pretend like everything's ok when it’s clearly not. Keith, though, won’t ask, won’t prod until Lance spills his innermost thoughts onto his chest, mouth moving against his neck and Lance isn’t really sure what he says, either, which settles heavy in his stomach. He knows he’s going to trigger another attack at this rate, can feel Blue squeezing and pressing into him in an effort to smother his dumb ass brain from it.

“M’sorry,” Keith finally says, but Lance doesn’t want to hear an apology. He snorts, probably, and Keith more than likely feels the tension winding through his shoulders.

And then-

Then Keith presses a kiss to the crown of his head, and Lance wishes Blue would just knock him the fuck out already because Lance can’t _compute_. He’s short-circuiting, he’s brain-dead, his soul has ascended to an alternate plane of reality.

“Was that ok?” Keith asks, staring down at the top of Lance’s head, and Lance nods, timid, wondering how he never noticed the heat in his face or the stain on Keith’s shirt before. Hopefully, it’s _sweat_ and not blood. Keith breathes a sigh of relief, somehow slotting himself closer to Lance and Lance is dying, probably.

“We should sleep now. Yup, sleep is definitely something that needs to be done. It’s on the to-do list, too! Good old sleep, mimicry of death, which is something I’m a fan of. Dying. Which is something I’m doing right now, actually. I’m dying, Keith. Keith, don’t laugh. I’m dying, Shiro. Hey, that could be a funny Voltron meme. You think Shiro will appreciate it? He’s kind of like a space dad so dad jokes are probably funny to him but are death jokes ok?” Keith rolls his eyes at the rambling but hums thoughtfully.

“Actually, you’re not far off with the dying jokes. Shiro’s got a-a _fatalistic_ sense of humor. You wouldn’t believe the things he’s said out loud,” he tells Lance, smiling shyly. Lance snorts again, a low laugh escaping his mouth, followed by a yawn. Keith sighs.

“Go to sleep Lance,” he says softly, and Lance can’t help but obey.

(And when they wake up and Lance pulls himself back together again, he knows his anxiety will still plague him, will still keep him up and crush his lungs and paralyze his limbs but he won’t have to be alone-and maybe, someday, Keith won’t feel as alone either in the cruel vastness of space.)


	2. (the taste of blood in my mouth is the only thing on my mind)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution! Shiro dissociates and vomits in this chapter but nothing is described in great detail, but please be careful either way!!

It’s not always the flashbacks that scare Shiro, in hindsight.

They’re no doubt awful, the way they pull him in, sink their claws deep into his bones and cut his insides to ribbons. The way they refuse to abate, even after he exhausts his body, exhausts his mind in an effort to collapse into oblivion. 

But oblivion is not safe, either, he realizes soon after the first few days of freedom. It doesn’t protect him from the nightmares, the wisps of purple beneath his eyelids, the echoes of memories best forgotten. It doesn’t protect him when he can’t wake up, when he’s stuck in the throes of the past year he can’t define, can’t remember wholly. Oblivion, sleep, it means little to Shiro when he can’t escape the living nightmare that threatens to pull him under at any moment, at the slightest trigger. 

Shiro sits up in his bed, his human hand shaking, tapping out a rhythm he doesn’t completely recognize. His blood is on fire and there’s an ache in his right shoulder, where the Galra arm is attached, and there’s a sudden urge to tear his limb off sitting heavy in his chest. The purple glow is always at the forefront of his mind and god, he doesn’t want it to affect him as much as it does, but he especially doesn’t want the others to know how  _ terrified _ Shiro is.

(And what kind of a leader is he, that he is scared of a simple  _ color _ ? How is he  _ capable _ of leading Voltron when  _ purple _ sets off all sorts of reactions inside his brain?)

He sighs heavily and gets out of bed, dispelling the farce of sleeping that he had tried to cultivate. His under armor still sits lightly on his skin, ready for the next attack on the Castle of Lions. It’s only a question of  _ when _ , now, and Shiro is first and foremost a soldier. He must always be ready for an attack, and there’s a small part of him that is weary of leading, of piloting the Black Lion, of being the pillar of strength that the others need.

(He almost wishes he could be the pilot of one of the other Lions. It’s a fleeting thought, really, but he suspects either the Yellow Lion or the Blue Lion would welcome him almost as easily as the Black Lion had.)

(But that is neither here nor there, and he is content with the bond he has with the Black Lion.)

Shiro performs a deep breathing exercise before leaving his bare room, feet absent-mindedly taking him through the Castle. He’s not sure where he wants to go, what he wants to do. He just knows that sitting around, waiting, is  _ killing _ him and he needs to be doing something-something  _ productive _ . 

The hallways are eerie without the hum of activity that the other Paladins generate, but at least the pure blue lights are soothing to the eyes. The others are more likely in their rooms, Shiro hopes, sleeping off the last battle, the bruises tenderizing their skin no doubt aching underneath the blankets. He sighs as he steps into the Black Lion’s hangar, the lights low against his eyes. 

But Shiro has gone off track, distracted by the pretty lights, his swirling thoughts. He focuses a bit more as he approaches his Lion, his fingers finding purchase on her leg. The Black Lion is mysterious, Shiro muses, and while he understands her to an extent, they aren’t totally on the same page.

“Hello girl,” he greets verbally, softly, hand stroking the buzzing metal beneath it. The Black Lion purrs at him, brushing up against his mind with a gentle  **_B R E E Z E_ ** full of warmth and tentative affection. He smiles and makes his way into the cockpit, where the thrum of magic is at its strongest.

(He is safe, he knows, within the Black Lion, and though they may not understand each other completely, Shiro knows that the Black Lion would never allow harm to come to him.)

Shiro relaxes in his chair, bones melting into the hard planes and _ finally _ , he feels like he can sleep, but he’s not quite there, yet. He’s been lax, looking for distractions and-

….

...

..

.

-and the thing that scares him more than his flashbacks, more than the nightmares, is the  **emptiness** that fills his chest without a hint of warning. The swirling void within himself that devours his emotions, devours  _ Shiro _ , and doesn’t spit them back up. He knows how to deal with the emotional fallout. He doesn’t know how to cope with the lack of one.

(What does that make him, then, that he can  _ shut down _ so thoroughly? What does that mean for the team, that Shiro can’t be there for them when they need him most? He’s a shell of a human, really, cursed with an arm made by monsters and a host of mental problems.)

A  **_T O R N A D O_ ** fills his head, suddenly, jerks him back into his own body. Shiro comes back to copper iron in his mouth, his cheek throbbing and his teeth sore. He rubs his jaw with his left hand, wincing gently. His throat feels raw, exposed, and Shiro wonders how long he’s been screaming, how much time he lost while his mind floated aimlessly. 

The Black Lion nudges his mind once more, brushing up against him like a cat weaving between legs. He grips the arm rest tightly, heart rate nearly doubling at the stress of his apparent dissociation. A sob forces its’ way out of Shiro’s mouth, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, and the Black Lion does not judge the Black Paladin, the leader of Voltron, for his weakness, for his lapse in control. He curls up into a ball, hands desperate to feel the weight of his limbs and his stomach is heaving, tumbling with the force of his crying. Shiro knows he should stop, but the tears won’t quit until he’s stumbling to his feet, desperate to exit the Black Lion. He doesn’t make it, instead falls to his knees and vomits what’s left in his stomach, apologizing and pleading and begging with his occupied mouth and mind.

He’s exhausted afterwards, but finds the energy to clean up his mess mechanically, his face still wet and warm. The Black Lion is not angry with him, only sympathetic, and Shiro thinks that she must be a saint. Though Shiro’s limbs are shaking with exhaustion, he stands, conflicted. 

“Can I-Can I stay here?” he asks the Black Lion, afraid to lay a hand on her interior after making a mess. An ancient  **_W I N D_ ** knocks into him, a pleasant affirmation and something  _ else _ draping over Shiro’s mind like a balm to his wounds. 

(He sleeps, for once, without dreams or nightmares, only the rumble of an ancient guarding their Paladin seeping into his bones, into his very soul.)

(When he wakes he thinks that maybe he understands the Black Lion a little more.)

(When he wakes, he sneaks back into his room and goes through the motions with bile on his tongue and a bone-deep ache that refuses to go away. He greets his team with a delicate mask, and pretends that he is human for a little while longer.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that Shiro tends to struggle a lot more than we're aware of and I wanted to show that here-there's tons of unseen Things to mental illness that we don't show or don't want others to know about, and I wanted to veer a little bit away from Shiro's flashbacks and nightmares to something else, in this case, dissociation, and Shiro trying to emotionally distance himself from his trauma and the conflicted feelings over that subsequent distance. I also read a really nice meta post about Shiro and the Black Lion and it really shaped how my narrative flowed and how I showed the Black Lion interacting with Shiro. They both have some traumas to work through, and need to learn to trust both themselves and their teammates.

**Author's Note:**

> im tired, ive tried posting this 5 times now, so.....all of the paladins will have their time to shine.,...nd they have a theme: the five senses-lance's is hearing, hence the music. next chapter is shiro, who is sense of taste. aaaaa have mercy on my soul.......


End file.
